Thoughtful Fridays

I have been reading a book by Ethan Hubbard, entitled Grandfathers Gift: A Journey to the Heart of the World. It is a powerful book, filled with simple vignettes and essays that provide a poignant and often eloquent window opening onto the lives of ordinary individuals the world over. I read each persons story with the reverence of a prayer and the sweetness of a caress. When I was very young, I determined that I would travel, see the world and its many ways of living. Not for some grandiose purpose(I was probably seven when I first became impassioned by the idea), but because somewhere embedded deep in my soul, I felt that if I were to travel, to see the faces of the multitudes, to experience their lives, to walk on their path, however briefly... then compassion would reveal itself to me in all its splendor. Not compassion born of gratitude for the many blessings in my life, but rather compassion that evolves when the boundary between "self" and "other" blurs. When the "reality" of my upbringing, no longer holds sway and the vision of "MY TRUTH" waivers before the luminosity of life itself. I remember a quote I read years ago when I was tipping my years toward the teens, "Belief is the greatest impediment to true knowing". It was this notion that cemented my desire to travel.
I didn't though.
I could easily dismiss this by enumerating a thousand things, great and small, that made staying seem necessary, even inevitable...but that wouldn't be honest. When I really look at myself and my relationship to my life, I realize that I've become tame. Tame in that I am comfortable with the reality I live in...with its warm bed and reliable meals, with its softness and convenience, with its numbing predictability and fearful security. Believe me, I am appalled to admit this. I haven't traveled as my young self assured me I would, in large part because it frightened me... the unknowns, the dangers, the lack of this or that.
But reading this book, is like hearing her voice, determined and resilient ...beckoning.

Comments

a story recently shared by a friend

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself...

He is no longer here

Another day has begun. I have lit my candles and incense. Sat in silence. Worked up a sweat at the gym. Eaten breakfast. Straightened house. Answered mail and dropped my man off at the airport. It is eight in the morning and the world stirs with wakefulness. The sun climbs in the sky. The birds sing. The squirrels chip and chur in tree branches. A dog barks. And I look with dull eyes at the long day ahead, contemplating a single phrase, "My father is dead." What strange words. My father is dead. The man has been leaving for as long as I can remember and yet his death robs the wind from my lungs. My chest throbs and throat tightens. He isn't coming back. My mom and dad had slipped out of one another's lives before I'd barely begun mine. Two weekends a month my brothers and I stood on a saggy porch, bags packed, eager for our hero to arrive in his old blue Ford to pick us up. We vibrated with hope...

shame

I was recently asked why I blogged or engaged in a continual reflection on my thoughts or feelings. Wasn't I at least a little ashamed to indulge my continual, narcissistic, self reflection in a world full of genuine need, suffering and pain. This came at a time when I really had nothing left to battle with. I went belly up with shame. My old answer didn't suffice. I no longer blog for the same reason that I once did. There wasn't an adequate answer. Shame asked, "who do you think you are to put your thoughts, ideas and writing out into the world?" Brown defines shame as the "intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging". Shame kicked my ass. I thought of deleting the blog. I felt ashamed of who I am, how I think, how I feel, how I live. I came face to face with my own darkest self. Who am I to occupy space? Who am I...

angelbirdflies

Search This Blog